Heart of a Lion
by PrettyGirlWonder
Summary: Gwendolyn Gaunt is a new fourth year who's just made friends with Harry Potter and his two best friends. She finally feels like she belongs somewhere. What will happen when she discovers her heritage?
1. Chapter 1: The New Girl

Chapter 1

The New Girl

The train whistle trilled loudly over the bustle on Platform 9 ¾. The Hogwarts Express seemed to tremble with anticipation or perhaps Gwen was projecting her own excitement onto the scarlet engine that was about to transport her to a new life—a better life.

Gwendolyn Gaunt had lived her entire life in a dusty orphanage in North London, sharing her possessions, her clothing, and her meals with two dozen other children. She had watched as each child was adopted by clean-cut, happy-looking couples and wondered why she was so inadequate that no one considered adopting her. In fact, it was almost strange how she seemed to repel the prospective parents that walked through the place. They were almost afraid of her, though she was only a little girl. Gwen wondered now if perhaps it had something to do with the fact that she was a witch. In spite of it all, she was rather glad she'd never been adopted by anyone. She might never have gotten her letter for Hogwarts. As it was she was rather old already. According to the headmaster, a strange old man with a beard that reached his knees, who had come to deliver the letter himself, the Ministry had debated about allowing her to come to Hogwarts at all.

"But…why?" Gwen had asked, feeling disconcerted at the idea of being able to somehow repel people she'd never even met—an entire Ministry even!

"They are careful about allowing children who have not been raised in a magical environment to come to Hogwarts at an early age," the old man explained. "Eleven is such a fragile time in a child's life."

"I'm terribly glad they changed their mind," Gwen said happily.

"Yes," the headmaster said softly. "Yes, indeed."

The train whistled again. Gwen grabbed her new pet cat, Gideon, who had been sniffing the cuff of her jeans. "Time to go, Gideon," she murmured.

She stepped onto the packed train and ducked into an open compartment on her right. Three teens, one girl and two boys were stuffing their bags onto the shelf above the window, discussing someone whose name sounded like 'Serious.' As that wasn't a name at all, Gwen was sure she'd heard wrong. She cleared her throat to announce her presence. All three of the compartments' occupants turned to face her. The girl was about her height and age, with long bushy brown hair that she had pulled into a ponytail and very straight teeth. The two boys could not have been more different from each other. The one on the left was tall and lanky, with milky white skin and bright orange hair. The other boy was shorter, though equally skinny, with pitch-black hair that seemed to have a mind of its own and vivid green eyes hidden behind large round glasses.

"Hello," Gwen said cheerfully, beaming at the trio. "My name is Gwendolyn Gaunt. I'm a fourth year." Gwen had practiced this several times to herself before the summer had ended. She wanted to sound like she'd gone to Hogwarts her whole life, and not the way she felt—scared and unsure.

"Hello," the girl replied, smiling lightly. "I'm Hermione Granger. This is Ron Weasley," she pointed to the boy on her left, "and this is Harry Potter."

The dark-haired boy grinned and Gwen felt her face get hot. She looked away from his green eyes and focused instead on the beautiful cat sitting on the compartment bench.

"Whose cat?" she asked, setting her own cat down on the floor. Gideon sniffed the air, and then hopped onto the seat beside the majestic cat.

"Mine," Hermione said, sitting down next to the two cats, who had curled up together comfortably. "His name is Crookshanks. Yours?"

"Gideon." Gwen set her duffel bag in a corner timidly, but the tall redhead boy picked it up and tossed it onto the shelf as well. Gwen smiled at him and he grinned back sheepishly.

"That's a great name!" Hermione seemed to mean it. Gwen sat next to her, partly to avoid being too close to Harry, who made her insides feel strangely jumbled, and partly because she made her feel welcome.

"What House you in then?" Ron Weasley asked suddenly. "Gryffindor? Or Hufflepuff? You look a bit like a Hufflepuff."

"S-sorry?"

"Houses," Ron said, watching her quizzically. "You've been Sorted, haven't you? You said you were a fourth year. Though you can't be a Gryffindor, we'd have seen you 'round the common room."

"Oh, well, I…I'm not sure," Gwen muttered.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked loudly.

"Ron!" Hermione scolded. "Stop pestering her."

Gwen blushed brightly and turned away from the group, pretending to occupy herself with Gideon. The truth was she had no idea what Houses were. The headmaster had not mentioned them during his visit. How did they sort people? Was there a test of ability you had to pass? She wasn't sure if she could do any magic yet. She had gone to Diagon Alley and bought a wand and all her materials, but she had no idea how to use them. What if she didn't pass the test? Would they kick her out of Hogwarts? She desperately wanted to ask Hermione but she had already made a fool out of herself. Clearly fourth years had already been sorted into their Houses.

"Are you an exchange student?" Hermione asked gently, pulling Gwen out of her panic.

"Well," Gwen said slowly. "I guess you could say that."

"Are your parents wizards?" Ron asked, watching her carefully.

"RON!"

Hermione stood so abruptly that she startled the two cats into hiding underneath the compartment benches.

"What?" Ron asked, backing away from her slowly. She seemed to bristle at the edges, her brown eyes narrowed in a furious glare.

"Why in the world would it matter if her parents are wizards or not? It doesn't make a bit of difference!"

"I didn't say it made a difference," Ron snapped back. "I was just asking. Maybe that's why she doesn't know about the Houses."

"If she's an exchange student, then whether her parents are wizards or not, she wouldn't have heard about the Houses. Inner school secrecy, you know. It's all in-"

"_Hogwarts: A History_," Harry and Ron finished in unison.

Gwen watched this exchange in silence, wishing she could disappear into the ugly striped wallpaper that covered the compartment. Why hadn't anyone told her these things? Why did she feel like this was some big joke, like someone was trying to make her look stupid?

"The Houses are like individual teams at Hogwarts," Hermione began to explain, and Gwen had to fight the intense urge to throw her arms around her in a hug. "There are four, and usually first years are Sorted in front of the school during the Start-of-the-Year Feast. The Houses are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Each House is characterized by different traits that are looked for in each member. Gryffindor is known for its bravery, nobility, and chivalry, Ravenclaw for its intelligence and wit, Hufflepuff for its kindness and honesty, and Slytherin—"

"For its general lack of any of those traits," Ron finished, snickering. Harry chuckled. Hermione rolled her eyes, but continued. "And Slytherin for its ambition."

"How are you sorted?" Gwen asked timidly, thinking that she didn't feel like any of those things and that perhaps Hogwarts didn't have a House for her.

"By an enchanted hat," Hermione said. "You just put it on and it figures out which House you belong in."

"You're lucky you have us," Ron said, leaning back into his seat. "I was terrified my first day at Hogwarts. Mind you, I come from a family of nine witches and wizards and none of them bothered to tell me what to expect. I thought I was going to have to wrestle a troll or something."

Harry laughed. "In case you've forgotten, we did wrestle a troll our first year," he murmured.

"Yeah, well at least I didn't have to do it in front of the whole school," Ron replied.

The trio laughed and Gwen felt a distinct longing to laugh with them, to be part of their intimate circle.

"You—you wrestled a troll?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"Long story," Harry said, as Ron leaned forward to dive into the tale. "Not nearly as glorious as I'm sure Ron will make it sound."

"Do you know if you're being Sorted with the first-years?" Hermione asked, settling in next to Harry with a large, leather-bound book.

"No," Gwen said sheepishly. "I don't really know what's going to happen when we get to Hogwarts."

"Well, cross your fingers for Gryffindor," Ron said. "'Course, anything's better than Slytherin."

"Slytherin's bad?" Gwen asked.

"Well, it does have a knack for producing Dark wizards," Ron explained. "You-Know-Who was in Slytherin."

"You-Know-? Who?" Gwen echoed.

"You don't know about Voldemort?" Harry asked quietly, while Ron twitched visibly.

"What school are you from again?" Ron asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

"I—I'm not—I mean…" Gwen looked at Hermione for help, but even Hermione's face was lined with suspicion. Gwen sighed. She couldn't lie to them forever, after all.

"I'm not from another school," she said in one quick breath. "I was raised in an orphanage. I didn't even know I was a witch until Dumbledore, the headmaster, came and told me that I was to come to Hogwarts. I'd never heard of the place before. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't want to seem ignorant or out of place. I—I was hoping we could be friends."

"But why are you coming to Hogwarts so late? Didn't you get a letter when you turned eleven?" Hermione asked first, after a long silence.

Gwen blushed deeply. "No. Dumbledore said that the Ministry held my letter because they believe that eleven is too fragile an age for non-magic children. I thought that happened a lot."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other briefly, and then turned their attention back to her.

"Well, we've never heard of the Ministry doing that, but maybe they've done it in the past. Are you sure your parents weren't magical? How would you know if they died?"

Gwen thought about this. She knew nothing of her parents. The nuns at the orphanage had never spoken to her about them, or even of the circumstances surrounding her arrival at the orphanage. She had always assumed that she was like the others—an orphan with no surviving relatives. Why else had no one come to claim her? The idea that perhaps she was the child of a witch or wizard changed things. Perhaps her parents were still alive. Perhaps there was more to her having been raised alone—perhaps she was not an orphan after all…

"Gwen?"

She looked up, startled. "Sorry," she muttered.

"That's alright. It doesn't really matter. We'll be happy to show you the ropes. Hogwarts can be a big place to someone who doesn't know their way around."

"It's still too bloody big, even when you know you're way," Ron mumbled grumpily.

Gwen laughed with the others, but her thoughts were still on her unknown parents. If they were magical, if they were alive, why had they put her in an orphanage? Had they hoped their daughter would be raised away from magic? Were they protecting her? Or protecting themselves?

The train hummed along the tracks, as the scenery outside the window changed from spotted towns to thickets of forest. The sky began to darken and Gwen could see lightening flash in the distance. She hoped they reached Hogwarts before the storm reached them.

Several students looked in on the compartment as the afternoon wore on. Two boys named Neville and Dean stayed to hear Ron and Harry recount the details of what Gwen believed was a magical sporting event, until another group of boys interrupted the conversation. As far as Gwen could tell, Draco Malfoy and his two friends Crabbe and Goyle were the equivalent of grade school bullies. Ron, Hermione and Harry explained that Draco hated Harry because his father was secretly a Dark wizard.

"But why would he hate Harry specifically?"

"Because he's a Death Eater," Ron whispered dramatically. "One of You-Know-Who's supporters."

"Will someone please tell me exactly You-Know-Who _is_?" Gwen said.

"The worst Dark wizard in Britain," Hermione piped in, before Ron could speak. "About thirteen years ago, You-Know-Who was at the height of his power. He was feared by everyone, Muggles and wizards alike. You-Know-Who believed, as do many wizards still, that only pureblood wizards deserved the right to use magic. Half-bloods, Muggle-borns, and obviously Muggles were dirty, unworthy to live. You-Know-Who along with his group of followers, went about making sure that none did live. He tortured and murdered so many people."

"What—what happened to him?" Gwen whispered, horrified.

"Well," Hermione said, and a small smile appeared on her face. "Thirteen years ago, You-Know-Who met his match. He traveled to Godric's Hollow and murdered James and Lily Potter, then turned his wand on their one-year old son."

Gwen blinked, not immediately registering what Hermione had said.

"He—he killed Harry's parents?" she said at last, not daring to look at the subject of her question.

"Yes," Hermione said. "But he couldn't kill Harry. The spell rebounded, hit You-Know-Who and he vanished. Harry was left with only a scar."

The compartment was silent for a long while. Gwen had a thousand questions, but she asked none of them. Finally, she spoke.

"What was his name?"

It was Harry who answered this time.

"He went by the name Voldemort. But his real name was Tom Marvolo Riddle."

The remainder of the train ride passed quickly, though the energy in the compartment was subdued. Gwen hardly spoke, her thoughts waist deep in the story of Voldemort. What kind of person would do such terrible things? Gwen wondered what Voldemort's childhood had been like. Had he been raised by a normal family that loved him? Was he simply an abomination of nature? Or had he been scarred as a child? Could the former Tom Riddle have been an orphan too?

"We'll be there soon," Hermione said, smiling, pulling Gwen out of her horrific musings. "Want to change into your robes?"

Gwen glanced around at the boys, who were pulling their long, black school robes over their jeans and t-shirts. She nodded, feeling faint, and reached for her bag. Hermione swiftly pulled her own robes out and donned them, stashing her wand in the pocket. Gwen followed suit, but the wand felt awkward and unfamiliar against her thigh, so she pulled it out again and held it fearfully in her hand. The train had slowed to almost motionless and Gwen could see, beyond the cloud of black that pressed itself against the window, the outline of an enormous castle, carved out of a high mountain. The faint feeling intensified and Gwen swayed slightly in place. Thankfully, the screech and pull of the train coming to a halt disguised her moment of weakness and none of her new acquaintances noticed.

Gwen stepped onto the dark and crowded platform. She followed Hermione closely, afraid to get lost amidst the throngs of unfamiliar faces. They walked slowly at first, pushing against the endless line of students, until finally the platform opened out into a gravel path. Nearly two hundred coaches stood waiting, none of them attached to any kind of horse. She glanced at Hermione, who was fidgeting with Crookshanks' basket. Gideon was sleeping soundly in Gwen's arms, despite the noise around her. She envied him momentarily, half-wishing she were asleep and safe, away from the eyes that would soon have a front-row seat to her humiliation. She did not have much time to dwell on this, however, as Hermione was already climbing into one of the horseless carriages. Ron reached out his hands and Gwen gazed at him, momentarily confused. Then she realized he was reaching out to take Gideon and she handed him over. She climbed into the carriage and found herself sitting next to Harry, who was holding a snowy white owl, asleep in her cage, in his lap. He smiled at her and she smiled back weakly. She wanted to ask his owl's name, but her throat seemed to have closed itself to all sound. The carriage hobbled along the gravel road, flinging its passengers to and fro as it crashed over the uneven ground. Afraid to seem even more ignorant than she already felt, Gwen refrained from asking what was pulling the carriages. She supposed that in this world there were some things that simply had no explanation. It was, after all, a school of magic.

The carriage began to slow down and Gwen watched as they passed through tall iron-wrought gates and pulled up to a high arched door. Students were spilling out of the carriages into the castle, half running and sliding into the brightly lit hall just beyond the doors, as it had begun to rain ferociously. As Hermione, Harry, Gwen and Ron made their way toward the open doors, a commotion just ahead of them caused the entire mass of children in front of them to stop dead.

"What the bloody hell is the hold-up?" Ron yelled over the pouring rain. Hermione and Harry shrugged, but Gwen could see, through a break in the crowd in front of her, that a small, leprechaun-like man was throwing what appeared to be water balloons at innocent passerby and cackling madly.

"There's a—a tiny man throwing water balloons at students," Gwen called to the trio. They all rolled their eyes simultaneously and said, in loud unison, "Peeves!"

Just as they called out the strange name, Gwen heard it again, this time coming from a tall, middle-aged witch in spectacles and green robes who had just appeared at the large oak doors. As the crowd ahead of them moved forward slowly, Gwen found herself directly beneath the culprit named Peeves. She flinched, waiting to be soaked in ice-cold water, thinking that she was glad that Ron was holding Gideon, when a loud bang caused her to jump. She looked up to see Peeves gone and the tall bespectacled witch ushering students in hurriedly. As Gwen passed, however, the witch stopped her.

"Are you Gwendolyn Gaunt?" she yelled above the din of rain and screams, as students ran for cover from the storm. She nodded, thinking that yelling back would be disrespectful.

"Come with me."

Gwen's heart stopped. She glanced back at Hermione, who nodded encouragingly. Ron handed her back Gideon, who looked extremely annoyed with the weather. Gwen followed the tall witch past a large hall where it seemed most of the students had seated themselves at long tables decked in different colors. At the head of the room, Gwen spotted Professor Dumbledore sitting in a high-backed chair at another long table that ran horizontally along the other tables. She didn't have a chance to see anything else, however, because the tall witch had rounded a corner and Gwen had to run not to lose her. They rounded two more corners before the witch stopped in front of a normal-looking classroom door.

The witch held the door open for Gwen, who stepped inside quickly. The room was a perfect oval, with a rounded desk at the front. Behind it was an enormous chalkboard, with the words _Professor M. McGonagall _scrawled neatly across the top. Sitting atop one of the front row desks was a withered, tattered old wizard's hat. Gwen's stomach lurched. Was this the enchanted hat that would decide her fate for the next three years? The tall witch, who Gwen deduced was Professor McGonagall, pulled out her wand and tapped the hat twice, without saying a word. For a moment nothing happened. Then quite suddenly, a large rip appeared at the hat's brim and it began to sing. Gwen blinked twice, not sure that she was seeing what she thought she was seeing. McGonagall tapped that hat again and it fell silent, but the large rip remained slightly open, as though the hat were not quite finished with what it had to say.

"Quickly, then Miss Gaunt," McGonagall said sharply and Gwen jumped forward. "Best not to keep the whole school waiting."

Gwen carefully picked the old hat up in her hands, afraid it would bite her if she was not gentle enough. She placed it on her head and was immediately engulfed in darkness. The hat sank low over her eyes. Gwen stood very still, waiting for something to happen. She felt rather silly, standing in the middle of an empty classroom wearing an oversized, ancient hat. Another long minute passed and then—

"Well, well. What have we here?"

The voice seemed to be coming from inside her head. Gwen's muscles tensed; she waited for it to speak again.

"Not quite sure what to do with you," it said after another moment. "Blood of the snake, heart of the lion—an interesting combination. Much like the Potter boy."

Gwen's heart skipped. She was like Harry? But what did blood of the snake mean?

"I suppose I'll put you in…

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Gwen pulled the hat off of her head quickly and looked at McGonagall who was smiling slightly.

"Very well, Miss Gaunt. Back to the Great Hall."

They walked back to the entrance hall in silence, except for Gideon mewing hungrily.

"I'll take him," McGonagall said. "If you'd kindly deliver this to Professor Dumbledore," she added, handing her the Sorting Hat again.

Gwen handed Gideon over and took the hat. Now that the worst was over, the hat didn't seem as frightening. In fact, the idea of a talking, singing hat was a bit comical. Gwen took a deep breath and turned toward the Great Hall, Sorting Hat in hand and wand in her pocket.


	2. Chapter 2: Decisions and Propositions

Chapter 2

Decisions and Propositions

"Gwen! Wake up or you'll miss breakfast again!"

Gwen stirred beneath her blanket, unwilling to leave its comfortable warmth. Hermione's voice broke into the pleasant dream she'd been having like a jackhammer into concrete.

"Gwen!" Hermione pulled the covers off her in one fast jerk of her hand. Gwen groaned.

"Erm-my-knee…"

"Come on! I refuse to miss the beginning of Professor Vector's lesson because you slept in again. Now get up!" She flicked her wand at the folded robes on Gwen's nightstand, causing them to float towards the bed eerily.

"Alright, alright," Gwen muttered, pushing herself out of bed and rubbing the last bits of her dream out of her eyes. "You're worse than the nuns at the orphanage."

"I pity the nuns at the orphanage, if they had to rouse you from bed like this every day," she snapped back. Gwen smiled. Hermione could complain, but Gwen knew she didn't really mind. In two months Hermione had become the kind of friend Gwen had only ever dreamt of having, and her desire to be part of something had been fulfilled in Harry, Ron, and Hermione's friendship.

Gwen dressed clumsily, brushing her teeth and combing her hair as quickly as her sleep-ridden limbs would allow. When she was finally ready, she raced down to the common room, where her three friends were waiting for her. The sight of Harry made her stomach feel queasy, but it was not necessarily an unpleasant feeling. Hazy bits of her dream came back to her and she pretended to busy herself with her bag to hide the bright pink blush that she could feel creeping up her neck to her cheeks.

"About time!" Ron exclaimed. "I'm starving!"

"What else is new?" Gwen joked. Harry and Hermione laughed, while Ron shrugged, grinning.

"Let's go. Don't want Hermione crying when she misses the first opening lines of Vector's boring lecture," Ron said, smirking.

"For your information, Ron," Hermione began, but Ron and Harry groaned loudly. They had all heard Hermione's explanation of how fascinating Arithmancy was before.

They joined the late risers on their scurry to the Great Hall before first bell. Gwen and Hermione had Professor Vector's class first, while Ron and Harry had Divination with Professor Trelawney, so they ate quickly then parted.

"I've been researching the Triwizard Tournament," Hermione said, as they climbed a flight of stairs. "Dumbledore wasn't kidding—the death toll is ridiculously high."

Professor Dumbledore had announced at the Start-of-Term Feast that Hogwarts would be playing host to a historic Wizarding competition known as the Triwizard Tournament. The Tournament included three competing schools of magic, each of which would have one champion to represent their respective school. According to Dumbledore, the Tournament had been discontinued due to a rising death toll, information that had not dimmed the majority of the school's enthusiasm. Hermione, of course, did not share their excitement.

"I'm sure Dumbledore wouldn't allow the Tournament if he thought students were in real danger," Gwen reassured her for the umpteenth time. "And it will be exciting to meet students from other schools, don't you think?"

"I suppose," Hermione murmured. "Oh thank heavens, we made it on time!"

Their Arithmancy class was waiting outside of the classroom, and they joined their peers in queue.

"I wonder where the others will come from," Gwen said, thinking that she'd very much like to meet an Italian boy wizard.

"The other two competing schools are Durmstrang and Beauxbatons," Hermione said knowledgeably. "It's always been those two."

"Where is Durmstrang?"

But at that moment Professor Vector opened the classroom door and the conversation was lost to the rush of students clamoring for the seats at the back of the classroom. Most of the students who took Arithmancy did so because their parents believed it was a "class of substance" as opposed to Divination or Care of Magical Creatures. Hermione was one of the few who actually enjoyed the class and she plopped herself comfortably in the front row seat she had occupied for over a year. Gwen sat beside her loyally, not really as fascinated with the subject as she was, but happy to be with Hermione regardless. Hermione didn't say so, but Gwen knew she appreciated the company. Neither Ron nor Harry mirrored Hermione's more academic interests, and she could tell Hermione liked having someone she could talk to about those things.

Today's class seemed to drag more than usual, and Gwen was slightly lightheaded from hunger when they finally were released. She had only managed a piece of toast for breakfast in their haste to make it on time and was now bitterly regretting not having brought another piece with her. Hermione and Gwen met up with Ron and Harry, who looked as hungry as she felt. They had Double Potions now, which meant that the slight headache that was forming in Gwen's right temple was sure to intensify.

Professor Severus Snape was the meanest teacher she'd ever had the misfortune to meet. Ron and Harry despised him and Professor Snape wholeheartedly returned the sentiment. He seemed determined to make life especially difficult for Harry, who had explained that Snape had disliked Harry's father when they had gone to school. Being cruel to Harry was Snape's idea of revenge to Harry's dead father. The whole thing seemed sophomoric to Gwen. Why would a grown man waste his time making a little boy's life miserable simply because he hadn't gotten on well with the boy's father thirty years ago?

The trek to the dungeons, where Snape held his lessons, seemed twice as long to Gwen today. Ron groaned about how hungry he was, while Hermione chattered her worries about the Tournament to Harry. Gwen walked quietly down the winding staircase, lost in thought about her classes and her feelings for Harry. She wasn't sure what it was about him that made her so nervous. She liked being his friend, and she was afraid that her strange feelings might jeopardize their relationship. But she was drawn to him nonetheless. She was afraid to tell Hermione, who might feel that since she had known Harry longer it was her duty to keep him informed. Gwen decided it was best to keep her feelings to herself, at least until she was sure of Harry's.

Snape's classroom was already half full when they arrived, but the professor was nowhere in sight. Harry and Ron took seats at a table in the back with Neville Longbottom, a kind-faced albeit clumsy Gryffindor, while Gwen and Hermione took a table near the middle of the room.

Professor Snape swept into the room a few minutes later in a cloud of black, billowing robes, his usual sneer securely in place. He flicked his wand at the blackboard, revealing instructions for the potion they were supposed to be learning. They had been focusing on poison antidotes for the past two weeks and Gwen was growing tired of them. She longed to learn how to make the potions she had read about in some of the school library books—Polyjuice Potion, which turned the drinker into a different person entirely, or Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in the world. Poison antidotes seemed almost normal in comparison. But Hermione had told her that many of the more interesting potions were forbidden or only taught to higher level sixth and seventh year students.

Professor Snape was now stalking the aisles between tables, pointing out mistakes in a loud jeering voice. Gwen scrambled to light her cauldron, and then hurriedly began chopping caterpillars into as even pieces as possible. Snape swept by their table, pausing briefly then moving along without a word. Gwen knew this lack of criticism was Snape's form of a compliment. If there was nothing to criticize then there was probably nothing wrong with her antidote. Hermione winked at her and Gwen grinned. Hermione was top in the class, but Gwen was not far behind. She had kept up well with her lessons, despite starting three years behind everyone else. Her eagerness to prove herself, coupled with her friendship with Hermione made it easy for her to rise quickly and maintain her grades high. Ron called her "The Hermione Clone" but this didn't bother Gwen. She didn't see how being like Hermione was a bad thing at all.

Double Potions finally ended and the foursome headed for lunch at breakneck speed. They were one of the first to arrive at the Gryffindor table, and they wasted no time in piling their plates high and digging in.

"Hungry, eh?"

"Gwen looked up from her packed plate to see Fred and George Weasley sitting in front of her. She had been so focused on eating she had barely noticed the twins' arrival. She smiled sheepishly at Fred who winked at her. Gwen considered Fred and George to be the best-looking of the Weasleys she had met so far. Ginny, Ron's younger sister said that Gwen had yet to meet Bill, the eldest Weasley, but there was something about Fred and George that made them two of the most fascinating creatures she'd ever met.

"We didn't have much of a breakfast," Ron said between mouthfuls of mashed potatoes.

"Gwendolyn slept in again?" George asked, piling his own plate with food. George made it a point to use Gwen's full name whenever possible. He admitted that he'd never met a Gwendolyn before. "I've got to overuse the name so I can get used to it," he explained to her, when she'd asked him why he kept repeating it.

"Yes, Gwendolyn did," Hermione said with mock disapproval.

"Gwendolyn is sitting right here," Gwen piped up, tossing a grape at George. Fred and Ron laughed.

"So Gwen, what do you think about the Tournament?" Fred asked, leaning towards her over the table. "I know Hermione thinks it's too dangerous, but how 'bout you? Got a taste for a little danger?"

"Well, I think it'll be exciting to watch," Gwen said. "Not sure if I have the nerve for it myself."

"Well, what if you were, say, good friends with the Hogwarts champion?"

Gwen stared at Fred for a moment, perplexed. His eyes were the same blue as Ron's but wider and more vivid somehow. They didn't make her insides flutter like Harry's emerald ones, but she still found them beautiful.

"Just ask her out already!"

Fred whipped his head around at George who laughed.

"He's been talking about asking you out for the past two months. I was wondering if he'd ever work up the nerve to do it."

Gwen blushed bright red. She looked at Hermione who did not look surprised, though she did seem thoroughly pleased with herself. Ron was suppressing laughter behind his hands and Harry was watching quietly. He seemed upset about something, but Gwen was so flustered by Fred's impending proposition that she could not focus on whatever was bothering him.

"Well, since my dear stupid brother has completely ruined the occasion anyway—would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me Gwen?"Fred returned the force of his blue-eyed gaze to Gwen.

Part of Gwen wanted to say yes. Fred was handsome, charming, and funny not to mention popular. He was older and came from a good family. If things flourished between them, it would mean spending summers at the Weasleys house rather than the orphanage. There didn't seem to be a reason not to say yes.

And then there was Harry. He was staring at his plate sullenly and Gwen's heart twisted with sadness. She wasn't sure why she was making such a fuss to herself. Harry had never shown anything but platonic interest in her and Fred was a good choice…

"Sure, I suppose that would be nice," Gwen heard herself say. She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until the words spilled out of her in one large gust of air.

"Brilliant," Fred said, beaming at her. He and George stood up, and just before he walked away, Fred leaned over and pressed a soft, but firm kiss on her cheek. The steady scarlet blush that colored her cheeks before deepened to a luxurious burgundy.

As soon as the twins' heads disappeared among the crowd, Hermione let out a squeal of delight and threw her arms around Gwen in a hug.

"I knew it!" she squeaked. "I knew he fancied you!"

"You—you did?"

"Yes!" Hermione let her go, beaming even wider than Fred. "Ever since he met you he's looked at you in that weepy, longing way. And he always defended you when George or Ron picked on you and he gave you those flowers you loved so much after you mentioned that you liked colorful flowers!"

"I thought he was—I mean, I never imagined—He's so much older than me!" Gwen gasped.

"Not really," Hermione said. "He'll be seventeen in April and you turn fifteen in January. It's only two years. And girls are more mature than boys anyway. And you know he's from a good family—Oh, Gwen, aren't you happy?"

She had never seen Hermione act like this before. She was usually so composed. The only time she ever lost her cool was with Ron, and Gwen usually chalked that up to the fact that Ron went out if his way to get a rise out of her.

"I suppose I'm happy. I'm mostly nervous. I don't even know what we're so supposed to talk about when we're alone. I've never been alone with a boy."

"You've been alone with Ron and Harry," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "It's not too different."

Gwen doubted very much that the comfortable atmosphere between herself and the two boys would be present on her date with Fred. She had been comfortable enough with Fred when there had been no romantic implications, but now she was sure things would be awkward. Fred was older, more experienced with relationships—or at least she assumed he was. He got along very well with the other girls in his year, particularly Angelina Johnson, who played on the Gryffindor Quidditch team with him. Fred didn't seem to have a confidence problem at all and Gwen was constantly unsure of herself. How could she have thought this would work? Fred was going to think she was boring. She had spent almost all of her time at Hogwarts trying to be like Hermione and working to fit in with everyone. Now she realized that stripped of a role to play, Gwen wasn't sure who she was.

Gwen didn't talk much the rest of the day. She was subdued at dinner and hardly ate, despite Ron's attempts to coax her with a sumptuous looking trifle. She felt like a ghost, a whisper of a person rather than an actual one. Everyone around her was so real, so full of life and opinions and history. She had nothing that made her unique, nothing that clearly identified her as different from the rest. She was Hermione's shadow. She was Ron and Harry's other female friend. She was the girl Fred was taking to Hogsmeade. She was defined by the people around her. And she had suddenly realized it, like waking from a dream you were so sure was real until you're alarm clock jolted you awake.

After the trio had gone off to bed, Gwen sat in one of the cozy winged armchairs in the common room in front of the fire. She gazed at the flames, moving collectively and yet individually as well. Each flame danced in a slightly different pattern from the other, but together they moved in synchronization. She wondered if there was something to be learned from that. Perhaps the trick was not being so different that you could not fit in, but learning the pattern of your own individual dance. Perhaps Gwen had lived her life along the lines of everyone else for too long. Perhaps it was time to draw new lines.

"Gwen?"

She was startled first that she was not alone. She was even more startled when she saw that her companion was Harry.

"Oh. Hello," she murmured. She chided herself momentarily for never wanting to speak above a murmur. What was she afraid of?

"Couldn't sleep?" Harry guessed, pulling another armchair up next to hers, angling it so that when he sat down, he could see her face fully. She was glad she'd chosen to sit in the fire's glow—it hid the soft blush beginning to creep up her neck.

"Lots on my mind, I guess," she confessed, forcing herself to speak at a normal pitch. She rather liked the way her voice sounded. She sounded sure of herself.

"Anything you want to, er, talk about?" Harry was obviously not in the habit of suggesting heart-to-heart talks. But he seemed genuinely interested in whatever was on her mind and she appreciated this.

"Nothing that would keep you awake," Gwen said, smiling. "Unless you need something to put you back to sleep," she added, laughing.

Harry grinned. "I'll consider it."

"Anything you want to talk about?" She felt it was only fair to ask since he had offered first. She hadn't expected him to accept.

"Well, actually, yes," he said earnestly. She glanced at his eyes briefly. They were a deeper green than usual, but they still sparkled in the firelight. She waited for him to elaborate.

"I've been thinking about this afternoon," he began, not looking directly at her. It seemed he was thinking hard about his words, choosing carefully. She waited patiently.

"I've been thinking about you and Fred, mostly. I've known Fred for four years now, and he's a great person. But I don't think he's quite—quite right for you."

Gwen wondered vaguely if she'd misheard him. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Harry, however, wasn't finished.

"I know it's not really my business. Who you date is your choice and like I said, Fred isn't a bad guy or anything. But," he paused, looking her directly in the eyes now, "you seem too—too frail for Fred."

The words didn't register immediately, but the pain did. Harry thought she was frail. Too frail to be with someone as charming and lively as Fred. For a moment she wanted to cry, and then anger replaced the hurt. Who was Harry to make that judgment? He knew nothing about her. She was _not_ frail and she would prove it. She would start right now.

"And who exactly do you think is suitable, Harry?" she retorted, returning his gaze with a ferocity she was not familiar with. It felt good to be angry, somehow. It gave her strength, courage. It gave her power. "Perhaps I should go out with Professor Binns? Am I not too frail for him?"

She glared at him, waiting for his response. He seemed taken aback.

"G—Gwen, I didn't mean… I wasn't trying to offend you. I wasn't saying that you weren't good enough for him; I just think you need someone who'll be more—more careful with you. Fred can be carefree to the point of carelessness and I don't want—"

She cut him off. "And what makes you think I need taking care off? I'm not a porcelain doll, Harry and I resent you thinking that I need to be treated like one."

He bowed his head, ashamed. "I'm sorry. I really didn't mean—I wasn't trying to hurt you or offend you. I was trying to—well, to protect you."

"Why?" She could feel the anger subsiding. She could see he hadn't really meant to do any harm.

"Because I—I care about you. We're—I mean, I hope we're friends, aren't we?" He seemed unsure now.

"Oh," she said quietly. "Yes, I suppose so."

"Right," he muttered, still staring at his feet. "Right."

"Harry?"

His head snapped back up. "Yes?"

"Did you tell Ron or Hermione your thoughts? About Fred and I?"

He bit his lip, and then looked away shiftily. "Not really."

"Did you tell Fred?"

"No!" He looked horrified at the thought.

"Did you think I would call off the date because of this?"

He sighed, defeated. "I had hoped…"

She leapt to her feet indignantly. "That's not a very friendly thing to do, Harry. Fred is nice. And besides it's only one date. It doesn't mean we're getting married or anything. Couldn't you have waited to tell me this? Until things were more serious?"

He considered this momentarily, and then shook his head fervently.

"It would have been too late."

"Too late for what?"

He fell silent again, refusing to meet her eyes.

"Well?" she demanded.

Harry let out a gust of air he'd been holding. He took another deep breath then spoke.

"I meant what I said before. I think Fred is wrong for you. You may not be frail, but you deserve someone who will take the time to discover everything about you. Someone who will want to see every part of who you are. I don't know if Fred is in a place where he's ready to do that. I think one day he will, but not right now. And frankly, I don't think Fred likes you as much as—as much as I do," he concluded boldly.

Gwen sank bank into her chair, feeling out of breath. For a minute that felt like an hour she said absolutely nothing. Then she slowly pieced words into the question she needed to ask.

"You—don't want Fred and me—because you want—us?"

Harry laughed softly. "I guess you could say it that way."

"What other way could you say it?" she choked out frantically. She needed to be sure before she let herself feel the elation that was threatening to overtake her judgment.

"You could say that I don't want you to make the mistake of saying yes to someone who's not right for you. And you could say that I believe I'm better suited for you than he is."

"But—but do you want—I mean, should I call off my date with Fred because you want to be-," She was finding it difficult to say the right thing.

"Yes," Harry said. "Yes you should call off your date with Fred because I want to be with you."

And with that, he leaned over, pulled her face to his and kissed her full on the lips. He kissed her deeply and when he let her go, Gwen felt as if every cell in her body had exploded.

"Right," she whispered. "Right."

The following morning Gwen waited anxiously for Hermione to wake up. The events of the previous evening had kept her up half the night and she knew if she did not share them with someone she might explode.

As the sun slowly spread a blanket of warmth over the sleeping dormitory room, Gwen sat on the edge of her bed, fidgeting with her hair and the corner of her comforter. She didn't know what to do with herself until Hermione awoke. She was terrified to go downstairs and face Fred, or worse, Harry. She had no idea what to say to either of them. She liked Fred, but she was certain she liked Harry as well. And they both liked her. She groaned quietly and buried her face in her hands. Why couldn't things be simple? Why couldn't just one boy like her? She would have been content with one or the other. Now she had to choose and choosing would inevitably hurt someone.

The hours crawled by and Hermione slept on. Gwen could wait no longer.

"Hermione?"

She whispered first, at the foot of her bed. Hermione did not stir.

"Hermione." Still nothing.

"HERMIONE!"

Gwen heard the waking gasps of several of the other girls, but only felt relief when she saw Hermione's eyes flicker open.

"Why are you yelling at me?"

Gwen sighed. "I need to talk to you. It's really important. It's about Fred. And Harry."

Hermione sat up. "About Fred _and_ Harry?"

Gwen nodded.

"Well, go on then."

Gwen recounted the conversation she'd had with Harry the night before, running carefully through every detail in her head as she spoke. When she got to the kiss, she felt her face burn but Hermione did not react. When she finished, she waited for her friend to speak, but Hermione remained silent.

"So?" Gwen prompted. "What do you think?"

"About what?" Hermione said, and Gwen swore she heard a slight edge to her tone.

"Well, about all of it, I suppose. I mean I have to make some sort of decision don't I?"

"Not really," Hermione said nonchalantly, pulling herself out of bed and beginning to dress. "The way I see it, Fred asked you first. Harry isn't taking that into account. It wouldn't be fair to Fred."

Gwen bit her lip. She knew Hermione made sense, but she wasn't sure if that was all there was to it. She liked Harry, possibly more than she liked Fred. Wouldn't it be fair to go out with both and decide then?

"But, Hermione," Gwen began, but Hermione cut her off.

"Forget what Harry said, Gwen," she said coldly. "Fred is a good choice. Harry had no right to say the things he said. Just forget it."

"Hermione—," Gwen said. Hermione glared at her with such fierceness that Gwen fell silent again.

She knew there was something more to Hermione's sudden frostiness, but she decided not to push the issue. She would have to figure out how to deal with Harry and Fred on her own.

The two girls descended the spiral staircase and headed for breakfast in silence. She wondered why Hermione was suddenly so upset, but she didn't have long to ponder it. Ron and Harry were waiting for them at the bottom of the main staircase and Gwen could feel her heart pounding in her esophagus.

"Morning," Ron mumbled grumpily. Harry's fixed his gaze on Gwen, who avoided it desperately.

"What's wrong with you," Hermione asked.

"Harry woke me up at an ungodly hour because he was 'hungry,' Ron growled. "We've been standing here for an hour waiting for you two. Apparently he wasn't as hungry as he thought."

Gwen laughed, but Hermione looked furious.

"That's really selfish of you Harry," she snapped. "Don't you take other people into consideration before you do things like that?"

Both Harry and Ron looked at her, bemused.

"It's not really that awful, Hermione," Ron said quickly. "I mean, I was pretty hungry anyway."

Hermione's glare only deepened. "It was inconsiderate."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I apologize for not—I dunno, taking your feelings into account, Ron. Please forgive me."

Ron grinned. "You're forgiven. Can we eat now? I'm bloody starving."

They walked into the Great Hall together, Hermione determinedly keeping distance between Harry and Gwen. In fact, she hardly let the two of them say more than four words to each other during breakfast. She was, however, uncharacteristically obliging when the Weasley twins showed up and even offered Fred her seat so that he could sit closer to Gwen. The whole thing irritated Gwen. She couldn't fully understand why Hermione considered it such a crime for her to date Harry. If they were friends, shouldn't she be supportive? Gwen decided that she'd have a talk with Hermione later. Their conversation this morning had been counterproductive. Perhaps she needed to approach her differently.

"We haven't been to see Hagrid, yet," Harry was saying, as Ron served himself more eggs.

"Oh, I'd love to meet Hagrid," Gwen said happily. Hermione glared at her.

"Well, I have tons of homework and so does Gwen, so perhaps you and Ron should go without us," Hermione said crisply. Gwen couldn't believe Hermione's determination to keep her away from Harry. She didn't even have any homework! Gwen decided it was time to speak up.

"Actually, Hermione, I'm quite up to date on my homework. But I understand if you need more time with yours. I'll go with the boys. I've really been looking forward to meeting Hagrid, after all."

Harry grinned widely. Hermione, on the other hand, had a mixture of rage and shame whirled on her face. She looked as if she weren't sure whether she should yell or explain herself. Gwen took advantage of her speechlessness.

"C'mon Harry, Ron," she said brightly, standing up. Harry hopped out of his chair immediately, but Ron had to pull himself reluctantly away from the bacon.

Before Gwen could walk away, however, reality stopped her in the form of Fred Weasley. She had almost forgotten that he was sitting next to her until he reached out and grabbed her hand, preventing her from moving away.

"We're still on for next weekend, right?" he said, his eyes raking hers. She could feel the heat blossoming in her cheeks. How on earth was she supposed to say no when he looked at her that way?

"Next weekend?" she asked hesitantly, although she knew perfectly well what he meant.

Fred frowned. "First Hogsmeade weekend," he said. "We have a date, don't we? Or did you already forget? I mean, we only talked about it yesterday."

Gwen smiled weakly and pulled her hand out of his. "Of course I didn't forget. Yes, we do have a date. Really looking forward to it, actually." She thought her voice sounded distant, but perhaps it was because she was lying so fervently.

"Good," he said, still scrutinizing her face. Gwen guiltily avoided his gaze.

"Right," she said, turning to Ron and Harry, the latter of whom looked rather put out. She gave him a brief but stern look, something she had learned from watching Hermione's interactions with Ron. It worked well; Harry nodded sadly and turned away. Ron followed him and Gwen trailed them. As she passed the Gryffindor table she noticed Ginny Weasley with a group of her friends. She noticed her because Ginny was staring straight at her, and the look on her face was nothing short of heartbreaking. Confused, Gwen glanced up at her two companions. Neither of them seemed to notice Ginny or her sorrowful expression, but a thought dawned on Gwen. She remembered suddenly a conversation she'd had with Hermione near the beginning of the school year. They had been discussing Ron's family and Ginny, who often spent time with them, had come up. Hermione had mentioned Ginny taking a fancy to Harry during her first year at Hogwarts and how she'd sent him some sort of Valentine-gram that had included a singing dwarf dressed as cupid. The story had made her laugh then, but since they had never dived into the details of Ginny's crush, it had never occurred to Gwen that Ginny might never have gotten over Harry. Hermione's odd reaction to the news that Gwen might harbor more than platonic feelings for Harry took on a new meaning. Perhaps Hermione was worried that Gwen's interference would affect Ginny's chances with Harry.

"Gwen, hurry up!" Ron yelled, and Gwen ran to catch up with the boys, who were already at the Great Hall entrance.

"You all right?" Harry asked. Gwen looked at him. She knew she had a decision to make and it occurred to her now would be the best time to make it.

"Harry, can we talk for a moment? Privately?"

Harry studied her face for a second and then turned back to Ron.

"Go on ahead, Ron. We'll catch up to you."

Ron looked perplexed but he continued up the main staircase alone. Harry pulled Gwen into an alcove near the foot of the stairs.

"Go on, then."

Gwen launched into her speech before her inhibitions caught up with her.

"I think you're great, Harry, but I think it's best if we don't complicate things by going out. I like being your friend and I'm afraid if things go badly I'll lose your friendship. I don't want that."

Harry was silent for a long time. She couldn't tell what he was thinking because his eyes were on the floor, but she was afraid her words had been too harsh. Harry seemed hurt.

Finally, he raised his eyes to hers and spoke.

"I understand Gwen," he said quietly. "I disagree that things would go badly—I think you and I are more compatible than you give us credit for—but I respect your decision. I have only one question."

"Of course."

"Are you going ahead with your plan to see Fred?"

Gwen was taken aback. Did Harry expect her to dismiss Fred simply because she hadn't chosen him? It seemed uncharacteristically selfish of Harry.

"Yes. Yes I am," she replied with a touch of defiance.

Harry grimaced. "Right. Well I hope you can understand that I won't be volunteering dating advice for the two of you. I respect your decision, but I don't have to like it and I certainly don't have to cheer on your relationship with another bloke." Harry's voice had a definite edge to it.

Gwen frowned. "That's your right, I suppose. But I feel I should remind you that Fred is your friend too. I don't think it's very sportsmanlike to be rooting for his unhappiness."

"I want your happiness Gwen," Harry said earnestly, and the hard edge in his voice melted slightly. "If you think or it turns out that your happiness is with Fred Weasley than I won't complain. And if Fred makes you happy, then I'm happy for both of you. But I don't have to be thrilled by the idea of the two of you. It would hypocritical of me to pretend that I'm perfectly at ease at the thought of you together. I won't get in your way. I promise you that much. But I need time before I can be truthfully happy that you chose him instead of me."

"Harry, I did choose you," Gwen said, taking his hand in hers. "You're presence in my life is infinitely more important than Fred's. That's why I can't be with you. There's too much risk that I'll lose you."

Harry laughed. "So you're rejecting me to keep me, is that it?"

Gwen laughed too. "It sounds awful when you say it like that, but yes, that's exactly it."

Harry stepped closer to her, his eyes shimmering. "Can I have a last kiss then? As a pity gift?"

Gwen blushed and giggled. "I suppose so."

Harry pulled her hard against his body, but he only lightly brushed his lips against hers at first. His arms wrapped around her tightly and she could feel one hand on the small of her back, the other in her hair. She sighed softly and he stopped the sigh by deepening the kiss. Her lips parted beneath his. She trembled and he groaned softly, pulling her deeper into the kiss and then swiftly letting her go. She felt distinctly lightheaded. He grinned mischievously.

"Had to make it good, since it'll be the last one, right?"

She nodded, still out of breath.

"C'mon, we should get going before Ron comes to find us," Harry said gently, pulling her up the stairs.

Gwen followed, her mind still reeling from Harry's kiss. Had she done the right thing? She wondered if maybe choosing Fred was a mistake. She'd never kissed Fred, but she doubted that he could set her blood on fire the way Harry did. She glanced at Harry as he led the way through the double doors that opened out onto the grounds. He still looked downcast, despite their brief physical exchange. And somehow, even knowing that she had made the mature choice, she felt as sad as he looked.


End file.
